


...and Ian

by blamefincham



Category: Radio 1 RPF
Genre: BROT3, Gen, Platonic Threesome, grinchal, grincham - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blamefincham/pseuds/blamefincham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian's pretty sure that Matt and Nick's friendship is weird.  He's definitely not jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...and Ian

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, the title is awful and I apologize.
> 
> This is a bit of genfic that wrote itself after 22 hours awake, seven of which were spent listening to the breakfast show. If you want to know how Ian feels, go and listen to "I'm Just A Kid" by Simple Plan. And then laugh.
> 
> Disclaimer: this fic is based on fictionalized versions of real people. I am in no way officially associated with the BBC or its Radio 1 Breakfast Show. Please don't show this fic to anyone in it (though if you guys are here trolling AO3, seriously, get a life and stop googling yourselves).

It starts, like most things on the breakfast show, as a joke. Ian wonders sometimes if any of them are actually capable of taking things seriously. Well, he _knows_ realistically that they are, they've got really important jobs doing really important things on a really important radio show, but--

But then they go and act like children again, and Ian can't help but question how and why any of them got here. Well, that's not entirely fair. Fiona's generally the most sensible of any of them (not that that's saying a lot) and Laura-May only tortures him on occasion, which just leaves Matt and Nick to relive their glory days as fourteen year old bullies. More likely, he thinks snidely, they never got to pick on anyone because they were too busy being massive music nerds and this is their revenge. Ian managed to slip through school mostly unnoticed—he was never exactly popular, but he knew how to stay out of the way. It's harder here, when there are only five of them and he's the low man on the totem pole and therefore the obvious target.

Nick starts it. Nick _always_ starts it, except for when Matt does. This time, he's just finished a rambling mess of a link by fading up Rhianna's S &M and dedicating it to “young Ian Chaloner”, and Ian knows he should just roll his eyes and go check on the photo booth, but he doesn't. Partially because he doesn't want to give up the chair he's commandeered, not with how Fiona's eying it hopefully. _Not today, Hanlon. Ian's got the chair today and_ you _have to stand, see how you like it_ , he thinks, and then rolls his chair halfway across the studio instead of getting up, just out of spite.

It's more complicated than he expected it to be, because there's not a lot of room to manoeuvre and there are always some cords on the floor, blatantly defying code. At one point Ian has to grab the desk to pull himself along, which he knows looks really cool, but nobody's looking at him, so that's fine. He supposes.

Anyway, he eventually gets round to Nick's side of the desk, and once he's there, he clears his throat. Nick ignores him in favour of scrolling down his tag on tumblr. Ian's frown deepens and he opens his mouth, but before he can even say anything, Matt answers from the other side of the desk.

“He mentioned you in that link because you're a glutton for punishment, Ian,” Matt says, barely glancing up from his computer screen. Ian starts to argue, but Matt keeps talking, right on top of him as usual. “And don't say you aren't. If you weren't, you'd have stayed where you were instead of going over to ask about it, which you had to know would make it worse on you.”

Ian closes his mouth.

Nick, who still hasn't looked up from his phone, waves his hand in a way that clearly means 'exactly' and says, “Thank you, Finchy.” “You're welcome, darling,” Matt shoots back, the corner of his mouth just barely quirked up in a smile.

Ian slumps back into his chair. Honestly, the relationship Matt and Nick have is _weird_. Nobody else seems to think it's weird, but—but Matt is straight? At least, Matt _says_ he's straight, and he loves James Bond, which Ian would generally consider pretty solid evidence in the “likes girls” column since some of those films are even a bit too laddy for him, but—well.

It's just that if Matt and Nick _were_ dating, Ian wouldn't be jealous. Really, he wouldn't. He knows at least that _he's_ straight and he's certainly not into either of them like that, it's just...well, Fi and LMC have each other, and then Matt and Nick are always MattandNick, which leaves Ian to be the odd man out. And even that would be tolerable if they didn't all make fun of him for it.

So that little exchange, even though it's nothing out of the ordinary and not anywhere near the worst it's ever been, puts Ian in a bit of a strop. A really, really _little_ bit of one. And even if it were slightly bigger than that, like, say, a medium-sized strop, well, it wouldn't matter, since nobody would notice, let alone care. Ian relinquishes his chair and goes to do some real work, staying outside of the studio for as long as possible.

'As long as possible' turns out to be the better part of an hour, because Ian knows that there are two possibilities for when he does come back: either they'll notice and make fun of him, which will be gratifying if incredibly embarrassing, or worse, they won't have even noticed that he was gone, and then he'll have to go home once the show's done and eat something really unhealthy to make himself feel better, and then he'll have to go for a run to make up for it, and it's raining, so that'll be pleasant all around.

Once he's made tea for half the building, gone to the loo twice, checked the mail three times (just in case), and done every other pointless task he possibly can, Ian steels himself and heads back to the studio, right before nine-thirty. At first he thinks it's his second scenario coming to life; nobody looks up, and Nick doesn't mention his reappearance in his link. There are, of course, no available chairs or computers in the studio, no place for him at all. Ian sighs and starts to plan his comfort-food takeaway dinner.

He's about to go and sit on the couch and brood and hopefully be left alone when the news starts up, and Nick tugs his headphones off and says “I-Chal!” It's his imperious voice, the one that says _come here_ and is often followed by _are you having a breakdown_ , but Ian hasn't got anything better to do and he knows full well that arguing with Nick is ten thousand times worse than agreeing with him, so he trudges over. “Yes, King Grimshaw?” Ian says flatly, even adding a mock bow. Nick rolls his eyes and points at the computer screen showing the text messages; three of them in a row ask where he's gone off to.

“I was doing things. You know, like my actual job, and don't even pretend it's just opening doors and plugging in wires?” Huh. That came out quite a bit more bitter than he'd intended, but Nick doesn't seem bothered in the least, he just rolls his eyes. “Don't care. Don't go disappearing like that, the public needs you. And, screw the public, you know how needy _I_ get, you did complain about it on the telly last week after all.”

It clicks in Ian's mind that Nick must've picked up on his mood and showed him the texts to cheer him up, and it gives him a funny, pleasant feeling in his stomach. Before he can say anything to Nick about it, Matt walks by, ruffles his hair, and hands him a sheet of paper with half a dozen numbers on it. “Sound clips for Generation Lame. I'm going to go have a brew, you take care of it,” he says over his shoulder.

Ian blinks. Nick says “Go on, Producer Ian, the news is almost over,” and swats him on the bottom. Ian's so used to it that he doesn't even jump, just makes a face at Nick and goes to take Matt's chair. He's smiling, though, because apparently whatever the weird MattandNick thing is, it can also sometimes be MattandIanandNick, and that's...well. Weird, possibly even _more_ weird, but...nice.

**Author's Note:**

> (for anyone who's also reading it, the third chapter of Brandy Alexander is in progress! Just not done yet.)


End file.
